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From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: You were right…
You’re not going to believe it! Where do I start! I just woke up, so you can imagine how late we came back. I was puking until dawn. I guess I’ll remember NEVER TO DRINK from now on. Anyway, Rhys, you were right about everything. I needed to get out of my comfort zone, meet people…
…kiss a man.
Because yep, that’s what I did. I didn’t plan it. It didn’t even cross my mind when I agreed to go to the party with Kate. It just happened. With the guy who was pouring beer there. I spent all night telling him jokes. I didn’t try to impress anyone (I danced like an idiot because I have no sense of rhythm, and I was too drunk to watch my mouth). I don’t know. Then we went outside to clear our heads a little, and we sat on this swing that honestly was not relaxing at all, and to make matters worse, it kept creaking.
And he leaned over and kissed me.
I know, you’re thinking right now that I’m acting (and writing) like a fifteen-year-old girl, and you know what? You’re right. That’s how I feel too. Don’t blame me. This is the second person I’ve ever kissed. And I’ve realized two things: Dean was overrated, and I was right—all that saliva isn’t normal. Don’t get grossed out. I didn’t know. I didn’t have anyone to compare him to.
James kisses way better.
I don’t know what else to tell you. My head feels like it’s going to explode, and I’m still sick to my stomach, but I’m happy, and I want you to be the first to know about my progress. I know you’re dying for me to develop my sex life and all.
But let’s talk about you…
Have you seen your mom? I hope so.
Where are you? Still in New York?
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: You were right…
I like the subject line of your email, but it was only a matter of time until you learned what I already know: I’m always right. That goes for your love/sex life too. (Can we call it that from now on? I like the sound of that.) Anyway, Ginger, I’m glad you had fun and you’ve kissed that second person. You deserve it. I’m also glad you’re realizing there’s a whole world out there beyond Dean and his excess slobber. (I can’t get it out of my mind. Why did you tell me?) Talk to me about this James.
I just got to LA a few hours ago. I’m at a motel, but tomorrow I’ll go stay with my good friend Logan. He’ll have his guest room free then. This carpet looks like it might come alive. It’s got stains on it from 1920, if not earlier. An archaeologist could make a study of it. And it smells weird. But apart from that, it’s not bad.
Yeah, I saw my mother…
It wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d imagined. You know how you can recreate a situation in your head so many times, and then it happens, and you’re surprised how it’s way less of a big deal than you expected? Well, that’s pretty much how it was. She showed up, I hugged her, we had lunch, we took a walk, and then she went back to her hotel. We barely talked about Dad. It was good, really good.
I hope your stomach’s better.
Good luck with it. (Yeah, I’m laughing.)
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: RE: You were right…
Is there something funny about my stomach being like a washing machine spinning round and round right now? Seriously, twenty-four hours have gone by, and it’s still holding the night against me.
But let’s get to the important thing: your mother.
You don’t know how happy I am, Rhys. For you. And I hope you don’t let so much time pass until you see her again. As for your dad…you never told me why you got so mad at each other. What happened? I’d prefer not to ask you directly like this, but I’ll probably die of old age if I have to wait until you tell me on your own. You’re like a snail, all curled up in your shell, and even when it’s sunny, you don’t stick your head out. (I’m trying to make a joke here.)
I’m so envious of you right now. I imagine you walking down one of those beaches in LA full of people playing volleyball and surfing, and you’re wearing sunglasses and a sleeveless shirt and eating a burrito from a stand or something like that. In case you care, it’s still cold here and—big surprise—the sky’s gray. I’m wearing a sweater and two pairs of socks. (Laugh if you want, but I still think it’s super romantic for someone to want to warm up my feet.) Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve got finals next week, so it’s not like I’d see the sunlight anyway.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Los Angeles
You’ve perfectly described what I was thinking of doing today.
I admit it—calling me a snail makes sense. I don’t know, Ginger. The truth is, it’s hard for me to talk sometimes, even to myself, let alone other people. And you’re the person who knows the most about my day-to-day life now… It’s just complicated. I mean, maybe it’s not complicated; maybe I’m the one who’s complicated. I think I started to realize at age sixteen that something wasn’t right with me, that I like being with people, but at the same time it wigs me out and I need solitude, that opening myself up makes me feel empty afterward, and emptiness scares the shit out of me.
Good luck with your exams, Ginger.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: [No subject]
I have no right to ask you to understand me, so I’m not going to. I think it’s enough if you’re just there on the other side of the screen, even if you don’t like me as much as you used to.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Sorry
Shit. I’m sorry, Rhys. Last night I didn’t respond because I was in the library super late, and I came back home so tired that I fell into bed and went straight to sleep. I hope you don’t think I was mad because you didn’t want to tell me the thing about your dad. I still like you as much as I used to! Snail and all. A snail’s a fascinating—what is it? An insect? Anyway, the way they carry their home on their back, it’s just like you, ha ha ha. (I know, I’m not funny; I’ve memorized so much stuff for my test tomorrow that my brain won’t hold anything else.) I understand you, Rhys, even if I don’t exactly. You know what I mean? I hope so, because I’m being serious. That’s the feeling I had the night we were in Paris, that you understood me even if you didn’t, and that you just listening to me was enough.
If someone read our emails, they’d think we were crazy. But like you said, we’re up on the moon, right? So don’t feel pressured to tell me anything. I’d rather just know what you want to tell me, even if I keep asking you questions nonstop. That’s just how I am. And sorry if I’m kind of absent these days; I’m in the library living off of crackers and sandwiches from the machine. My life’s pathetic right now, so you’re the one whose job it is to say interesting stuff. How’s everything in LA? Is it still all beautiful and sunny? (I’m sure it is, but be nice and don’t make me jealous.) Did you find a job? Are you already at your friend Logan’s place?
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: Sorry
I had that same weird feeling when we met in Paris. It doesn’t seem possible that it was five months ago. I remember it like it was yesterday, but at the same time like something far, far away. I know that doesn’t make much sense…but I feel like you’d understand.
I like thinking that we share the same insanity, Ginger.
Don’t worry, just study. You don’t have to keep me entertained. But try and eat something better than crackers and sandwiches if you can. Remember, soon you’ll be free. Do you have plans for the summer? I think I’ll stick around here until September or October, but I’m not sure. I’m at Logan’s. This morning we hit the waves for a bit. (I think I’m getting my groove back, and it’s been years since I surfed.) I have an interview in three days at a club on the beach. The money’s okay, and I get free drinks. So wish me luck.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Goooood luuuuuccck!
Just so you know, tomorrow I’ll spend the whole day sending tons of positive energy your way from the other side of the world, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed while I think about you.
My laptop battery’s about to die, so I’ll go ahead and send this before it shuts off. Sorry for still being so absent! The torture (my exams) is almost over. I think I’ll just lie down in bed and close my eyes without getting undressed, that’s how tired I am. Tell me something fun, Rhys.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: Goooood luuuuuccck!
Well, your energy must have reached me, because I got the job. I’m happy. The place is sick. The mixing table’s on a wooden stand in the middle of the beach, I can be up there DJing barefoot, watching people have fun, and when my shift’s over, I can join the party. It’s nice, the thought of working by the sea.
Something fun, something fun…?
Okay. I’m addicted to pasta, spaghetti, ramen, udon, whatever… When I was a kid, I thought it was neat how it was shaped. Don’t ask me why I was such an idiot. Also, I used to be scared to get on a Ferris wheel. Let me rephrase that: it still scares the shit out of me. If you’re laughing, stop. I’m also terrified of big grasshoppers; they’re so ugly.
I hope these confessions make your night go by better.
I also hope you’re not too tired.
And that you did well on your exams.
Get some rest, Ginger.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: DONE!
I finished! I can hardly believe it, honestly. I don’t know how I did on the rest of my exams (well, I think), but right now all I can think about is how I won’t have to touch another boring textbook until next semester begins. I’m ready to spend the summer reading novels and wasting time.
Maybe I should warn you: this email’s going to go on forever, because I have so much to tell you after so many days. So get comfortable and grab some popcorn.
First things first: I can’t stop thinking about you liking pasta so much. I know it’s silly, but I’m over here like, “Oh, that’s so cute!” Plus it just doesn’t seem like you. You don’t strike me as someone who’d care about stuff like that. You made me remember that night in Paris in your attic (I still think of it as your home) when we were eating those cup noodles, sitting on the bed, and talking nonstop. You’re right about time though; I feel the same way: sometimes it’s like it was years ago; other times like it was last week. And sometimes—note the craziness here—it’s like it never happened at all. I know, right?
I agree about the grasshoppers…
As for Ferris wheels though…are you for real? I can’t believe it! It’s not like it’s supposed to be scary. That got me thinking (what doesn’t?), and I was imagining you coming to London and me taking you to the London Eye. It’s 450 feet tall; until 2006 it was the biggest one in the world. We could go up there together. I’d figure out a way for you not to be afraid so you could enjoy the views.
Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever see each other again. Don’t pay attention to me; these are just dumb things I think about. All that studying has left me a little flighty, and my internal filter’s turned off, and no one will take away my laptop and throw it out the window before I finish the longest email in all of history.
Let’s talk about something more sensible though: you’ve got a job! Congratulations. It sounds amazing. I imagine you there with a mojito while you fill the whole area with music. I’m still waiting for you to send me one of your songs, BTW. No rush.
What else…? Oh, summer. I’m not thinking of doing anything special. I’ll go home and spend a few days with my family before we take our vacation in Glastonbury. It’s a small town in Somerset County. It’s big with people into mysticism and stuff. Like there’s all these myths and legends around it. In case you were wondering, no, I’m lucky enough to have a family that doesn’t believe in that stuff. That’s a relief, but I still feel like I’ll be writing you every ten minutes when they’re around, because I’ve gotten used to being on my own and doing my own thing since college, and I’m not sure how well I’ll handle the constant contact.
I hope after this gigantic email, you’ll write me one that’s at least half as long. I deserve it, I think. Tell me stuff, Rhys. And enjoy the sun for me.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Congratulations, Ginger Snap
I’m glad to know your period of seclusion in the library’s come to an end. I’m getting used to my routine at work. My coworkers and my boss are great. So is the ambience here. I work in the afternoon and evening, but I like the afternoon better. Seeing the sun come down while the music seems to permeate everything…then enjoying myself with everybody the rest of the night, waking up on the beach in the morning and hearing the sea…
As far as seeing each other again…
I think about it too. Who knows?
Maybe we’ll go on writing each other all our lives, but our paths will never cross. Or maybe we’ll meet in some little corner of the world. I still don’t know about your plan for getting on the Ferris wheel. I think I’d have a panic attack, and you wouldn’t find me attractive anymore. I can’t risk that, Ginger.
I know what you mean about feeling like Paris never happened. But it did. I was lucky that day. BTW, can you get a ticket out of a machine yet? I’ve been wanting to ask you for months.
You haven’t heard from Dean?
What about Mr. Second Kisser?
Enjoy the summer. I was thinking about all the things you were telling me, and you know, it’s kind of nice that you’re traveling as a family. Like in the movies when all kinds of dumb, funny things happen. Have a good time. And write me as much as you want. I won’t get tired of reading your emails, Ginger.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I KNOW HOW TO BUY A TICKET
I guess you think you’re funny…
Of course I know how to buy a ticket! But the thing was in French, and the button for English wasn’t working. I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain this to you though; you’re probably cracking up laughing at me. If I ever convince you to come to London and get on the Ferris wheel, you can bet I’ll get my revenge laughing at you and watching all your manly charm melt away.
I’m glad you like your job. I don’t know about you sleeping on the beach though. You know the world is a dangerous place? So be careful. Don’t drink too much. I don’t want to act like your mother, especially since I was puking my guts up just a few weeks ago, but… I worry about you.
Yeah, I had to do that project with Dean. I told you about that, didn’t I? It was uncomfortable at first, but in the end it was okay. I get the feeling he was trying harder than normal because he felt guilty. Great for me—I needed the A. We didn’t talk about anything personal, but I feel like I’ll see him again this summer. Probably he’ll come over for dinner with his parents one day, plus, we live close, just ten minutes walking.
As for James… I’m seeing him this afternoon. I haven’t been in touch with him since the party. As you know, I was basically living in the library, plus I don’t really know what can happen between us since I’m leaving next week. It’ll sound terrible what I’m about to say, but I don’t even remember that well what he looks like. He was a good kisser, he was sweet, and I thought he resembled this other guy I know, but that’s it. It’s like all my memories from that night got shoved into a blender.
Kate still laughs when we talk about that.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: My date
I guess you must be working, so you’ll read this later or tomorrow. I just wanted to tell you that I got back from my date (?). I guess I’ll call it that because I’m all excited.
We spent the afternoon in a well-known café here where they make the best hot chocolate in the world (with all kinds of flavors and sizes and all the toppings you can imagine. It’s heaven on earth). We didn’t do anything special, but it was nice. We caught up. Now that I think about it, you’d probably find our conversation ungodly boring. It was all that stuff you told me you hated in Paris: What are you studying? How old are you? Do you have siblings? Where do you see yourself in ten years? I guess that’s normal in ninety-four percent of cases when two people meet. (I made that number up, in case you’re googling it or whatever.) The Little Prince ’s philosophy is utopian and hard to apply to real life. Anyway, I did learn some stuff about him: He lives in the house where the party was; it belongs to his parents, but they’re at their other place in Scotland now (they moved there when they retired). He works at a law firm, and he’s twenty-six, like you. He likes chocolate with strawberries. If you want to know my opinion, that’s G-R-O-S-S. Lord Chocolate is a solitary man and has no interest whatsoever in dalliances with Lady Strawberry. At most, he might go for a fling with Miss Mint, but we’re talking short-term. A quick fuck. (Yes, Rhys, I can write the word fuck without blushing.)
Later he walked me to the dorm. Yes, he kissed me at the door. But my head wasn’t spinning this time, and neither was his. So that was nice. We agreed that we’d talk on the phone next semester, but you know how it goes; I don’t have much faith. Still, it was nice to see him and feel those butterflies in my stomach when we said goodbye.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Butterflies
Butterflies? For real? Ha ha ha ha. I’ll try to forget you wrote that. I do want to talk about the other thing, so you don’t act like an idiot if he does call you in a few months: Would you honestly go out with someone willing to have Lord Chocolate sleep with Lady Strawberry? I know everybody’s got their defects, but this is serious; it’s the kind of thing that will ruin a relationship at some point.
I don’t like what you were saying about the philosophy of The Little Prince not functioning in the real world. First of all, we live on the moon, and anything can happen there, right? If I’m honest with you though, I still haven’t read the book, so I have no idea what I’m saying. Either way, I don’t like to think anything’s impossible.
I’m glad Dean worked hard on your thing.
Don’t worry about me. I’m always good.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: Butterflies
Okay, I’ll take your advice and pay attention to a person’s taste in chocolate before committing to anything. I don’t want to get a divorce and go around telling people it was “irreconcilable strawberry-related differences” the way movie stars do.
Read the book. I’ll talk to you about it one day.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: YESSSS!!!!!!
I aced all my subjects! I’ve never been so happy before.
And I’m ready to spend the summer forgetting everything I’ve learned.
Tonight I’m having dinner with Kate to say goodbye, because she’s leaving a few days early. I’m already packing my bags. If I’m less reachable the next few days, that’s why.
Take care. I don’t care what you say. I worry about you.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: YESSSS!!!!!!
Congratulations, Ginger Snap. You deserve it.
Let me know when you’re home.